


Train Wrecks and Hurricanes

by Kaiyou



Series: Scions and Sake [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Asexual Character, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Open Relationship, Relationship Issues, Rivalry, Vampires, post-college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/pseuds/Kaiyou
Summary: Tendou's return after six years away is met with great excitement from his old friends, but what happens when Semi and Shirabu both meet the man he's brought home from the country?





	

**Author's Note:**

> TenSemi Week | Day 3: Memories
> 
> Just to make sure it's clear, this is prior to "Love Bites" in the timeline of things. All of these pieces I'm working on this week, I'm trying to make the plot-related ones in chronological order.
> 
> (Also Yokai_Hime - hopefully, you'll be pleased with at least one part of this).

Wakatoshi was sleeping when Tendou and Reon climbed onto the bus. Of course, he was. Reon chuckled and waved at Tendou, plopping down in one of the empty seats near the front. Tendou continued back to Wakatoshi’s seat, smiling and dropping into the seat next to him. All of the jostling around didn’t face the man in the least, so Tendou pulled out his phone and started to check his email.

Finally. Finally. Six years had been a long time to be away, four more than he’d ever intended. Not that he’d minded, really - if he hadn’t come up north he never would have met Wakatoshi, and well, that would’ve been unthinkable. But he’d missed his friends back home. Missed Kuroo and Bokuto and Iwaizumi, missed Kawanishi and Shirabu, missed Semi.

Missed Semi so much it hurt.

Steeling himself he opened up facebook, biting his lower lip as he stared at the image of Shirabu and Semi together. He’d known they’d probably fall into each other as soon as he left; they were best friends, after all. Best friends that shared a blood relationship. Even from his own experiences, he knew how easily those turned sexual.

Well, with most people.

Grunting, Wakatoshi shifted in his sleep, one arm sliding around Tendou and pulling him close. 

Tendou smiled and put his feet up on the seat across from them, leaning back into the mountain of muscle behind him as he flipped through the pictures. He tried to tell himself that Semi was happy. That Shirabu was happy. He didn’t believe it, but that might’ve been just wishful thinking on his part.

Pursing his lips flipped to his own personal album, one he’d used to keep him through many lonely hours while shacked up in a hut out on some farm.

There was his earliest picture of Semi, back before they’d gone shopping. He’d insisted on a ‘before’ picture of Semi in shapeless clothes and an awful haircut, complete with an annoyed scowl. He remembered that shopping trip like it was yesterday - Shirabu coming along with them acting bored as he played on his new phone, Semi being utterly horrified at the outfits Tendou brought him to wear, picking out a few clothes of his own - matching shirts for the three of them, jeans that he thought were hella stylish, a blue plaid fleece shirt that had really set off his hair. 

He’d learned Semi liked blue, and that Shirabu liked olive green.

He’d also learned that Semi looked really good in lavender.

Flipping through pictures of the clothes they’d bought that day he smiled. 

The trip to the salon had been memorable too, Shirabu insisting his hair was fine even with the stupid diagonal bangs, and Semi insisting he wanted to keep the dyed ends to his hair. Fortunately, he was willing to let them reshape it into something flattering. Tendou, for his part, had been less than pleased to give up the hairstyle of his kung fu heroes, but he’d been more or less pleased with the stylist's rendition of Gokun hair. He’d been a good-looking twelve-year-old, if he did say so himself.

The next few pictures were that weekend when Kawanishi had come in from the country to replace his grand-uncle as the Tendou family human servant. The four of them had gone to Disney Tokyo to celebrate. Tendou had been incredibly pleased that Shirabu and Kawanishi had hit it off so well together - not in the least because that meant he was free to drag Semi around to all the rides while the two boring humans did boring human things. Semi was much easier to persuade than Shirabu, anyways. 

Of course, Tendou had felt marginally bad when Semi had gotten sick after Space Mountain, but he’d been incredibly pleased with how entranced he was at the Star Tours. It was hard for Tendou to think of a better sight than Semi with his eyes open in shock and delight, really.

Maybe Wakatoshi kneeling in the field, fingers gently straightening out the leaves of a baby plant.

Smiling at the thought Tendou snuggled back again, feeling Wakatoshi pull him tighter.

“Mmmmm... ok?” Wakatoshi mumbled.

“Yeah, just looking through old photographs.”

“Ah.”

Wakatoshi shifted, arms looping around Tendou’s waist as he pulled him into his lap and rested his chin on his shoulder. “Looking at pictures of Semi again?”

“Yes.”

They’d had the discussion before about whether or not Wakatoshi minded how Tendou felt about Semi. For his part, the man had been surprised Tendou had thought he might care. It wasn’t like their relationship was exactly exclusive, or exactly - well, normal wasn’t the right word for it.

Wakatoshi was his rock. 

On one level they had the standard vampire-donor blood relationship, but it had never turned sexual. Wakatoshi wasn’t interested, and Tendou got relief in other places. They didn't really mean much beyond mild affection, though. It was nothing compared to the depth of the loyalty he had for Wakatoshi, or the strange, amorphous feelings he still had for Semi. 

He wondered how much his friend had changed.

Semi was terser in his messages lately. He didn’t smile. Tendou worried about whether or not it had been a good idea to introduce Semi to Oikawa and his group; he knew they’d become thick as thieves the last few years. It made sense, what with him gone, but still -

It worried him. Semi’s heart was pure, and good, and gentle. Tendou hoped it could survive getting mixed up in the politics of the Elites.

“Who’s this person?” Wakatoshi asked. “He’s in some pictures, but you don't speak about him.”

“Ah, Washijou? That’s the coach I was telling you about. I think he’s getting close to retirement, but I’m sure he’ll take you on. He trained Kuroo and the others.

Wakatoshi nodded, pulling the phone closer so he could get a better look.

“He’s Shirabu’s guardian,” Tendou said, leaning back. “Semi stays with them too.”

“I see.”

Humming, Tendou smiled at the picture. That had been Shirabu’s fourteenth birthday, when Washijou had gifted him with his late wife’s violin. Shirabu had been playing for a year already on a rental, surprising them all with the emotion of his performances. It was easy to think that Shirabu was nothing but a drone sometimes. He wasn’t nearly as expressive as Semi, at least in front of most people. Tendou, of course, knew something of his past, but the casual observer probably thought he’d lived a charmed life.

That was until he started playing.

On that day, one of the first things he’d done upon lifting the violin out of its case was to play one of the tunes composed by Washijou’s late wife. Tendou hadn’t known, but she’d been an accomplished musician and composer, performing with the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra when she was younger.

The music Shirabu had played had been a piece composed about the death of her younger sister. Washijou’s eyes had been wet with tears by the time Shirabu was finished.

It was the only time Tendou had ever seen him cry.

Semi and Tendou had both been in awe then, Semi almost at a loss as he leaned back against the piano that was his most practiced hobby. They both played different instruments, so it wasn’t like they were actually in competition with each other - anyone who played would probably say Semi had a better command of the technical aspects of the pieces in his repertoire anyways. But he’d left the party early that night, and Tendou had followed him, telling him over and over he was an excellent pianist.

Even if Tendou still didn’t really like classical music. 

Things had gotten better since then. Semi and Shirabu even played duets together at times, some Sonata in B minor that had gotten rave reviews from the critics who’d attended their high school orchestra concert. Semi wasn’t officially a part of the orchestra, of course, but he’d been willing to play anyway.

Tendou wished he could’ve been there. 

He wanted to see Semi smile again, break past the brittle facade. Get his Semi back.

“I am going to rest a while longer, if you don’t need me,” Wakatoshi said, yawning softly. 

“Of course,” Tendou said, turning his head to smile at the man. “Must be hard switching to a full night schedule.”

“Not that difficult. I am occasionally flexible, Satori.”

He knew. Oh, how he knew. “Rarely,” he mused, turning in Wakatoshi’s lap and resting his head against the other man’s shoulder. 

“When necessary.”

“True.”

~~~~~~~

Semi opened his hand full out, then made it into a fist. Again. Again. 

“You act like you’re nervous,” Akaashi said, sitting next to him on the bench in the train station.

“I’m fine,” Semi said. 

Bus from the hinterlands to the train station, switch trains once, then a bullet to Tokyo - hopefully, Tendou wouldn’t be too tired out.

Akaashi sighed, patting Semi’s back awkwardly. “It will be fine. Just think, he’s bringing another human or two to join our merry band.”

The deadpan way he said it made Semi laugh, glancing over to the gift shop where most of their human friends currently resided. Bokuto was jumping up and down babbling on about something - an owl, no doubt, he was always going on about the birds - and Kuroo wasn’t helping. Kawanishi and Shirabu seemed to be perusing the knickknacks. 

Shirabu had been in a foul mood when he woke up. Hopefully, he was better now that he’d had coffee.

“Three minutes,” Kenma said, not looking up from where he was seated on the bench next to theirs.

“Thank you, Kenma,” Semi said. Getting up he shoved his hands in his pockets, walking over toward the store. He frowned down at his outfit, a white shirt with a light blue and red plaid pattern over a red shirt and blue jeans. Hopefully, Tendou wouldn’t make too much fun of it. 

“They’re almost here,” he said. 

Shirabu’s eyes lit up as they looked his way, helping Semi to relax. Better mood achieved. Good, that meant one less thing to worry about. Smiling, he reached out and tugged his boyfriend closer, squeezing his hand. 

“I’m excited,” Semi whispered.

Chuckling, Shirabu said, “I think after six years you’re allowed. I am too.”

The others filed out after them as they walked through the light crowd, trying to get in position to be able to the new arrivals.

The first people through the doors were meaningless. Unimportant. Boring, even - but then there was that tuft of red hair, that stupid anime haircut Tendou had adopted at twelve and never gotten rid of, and his oldest friend apart from Shirabu was standing right in front of him with that stupid grin on his face. Semi hated that grin, it made his heart hurt just seeing it.

“Hey there, Semisemi,” Tendou said.

“Idiot, you know I hate that name,” said Semi, lips twitching.

Tendou just laughed. “Hey, guys! I want you to meet a couple of friends of mine - first, this is Wakatoshi, the best fighter in his district!”

Semi looked up. And up. Wakatoshi was tall, huge, with piercing olive eyes that made Semi’s heart do flipflops -

He’d let go of Shirabu’s hand.

Oh no. Oh no.

“Hey, I’m Oohira Reon, by the way,” said a voice that barely registered in Semi’s brain. “Second-best fighter in our district.”

He was too focused, turning to look at his boyfriend, watching a look on his face that he’d never seen before. Shirabu was staring up at Wakatoshi with what looked like awe, awe shifting into a quiet, hungry determination.

Oh no. Oh shit. Oh, this was bad.

“Kawanishi,” said a more familiar voice, filtered away as Semi tried to process. “You guys have bags?”

Looking back at Wakatoshi, Semi felt his feelings confirmed, growing all muddled in his heart as he turned to look at Tendou. There was a gentle, bittersweet acceptance on his old friend’s face, and it made Semi feel even worse, especially when he spied the way Wakatoshi’s hand rested on the small of Tendou’s back -

With one simple introduction, the world had just grown infinitely more complicated.

Semi feared it was about to turn into a train wreck.

~~~~~~~~~

The years had been kind to Semi. Of course, his fashion sense was still atrocious - Tendou suspected it had gotten even worse once he and Oikawa started hanging out - but he was beautiful. He’d grown a couple more inches since they’d last seen each other and his face was sharper, eyes more haughty and aloof than Tendou had ever seen them. That, he probably got from Akaashi.

“Nice place, eh?” Tendou said, gesturing around at the loft apartment his parents had bought for him and his friends. They were standing in the living room, in front of a bank of windows that arched from one end of the room to the other, giving them a lovely view of the Tokyo skyline. Behind them were the entryway and kitchen, with two bedrooms down halls to either side. Opulent, that what Tendou thought - but he’d spent most of the last six years working his ass off for his mother while finishing college, so he was more than happy with opulence. 

“It’s not bad,” Semi said, moving to the windows and pressing his fingers against the glass. “This’ll be useless during the day, though.

“The bedrooms are light-proofed.”

Tendou wanted to press a hand against the small of Semi’s back. He wanted to tug off that plaid abomination and do, well.

Do many things.

It hadn’t really registered how much he missed the other man until they were together again standing on that train platform.

For a moment, just a moment, Semi had seen him - almost smiled, smiled with his eyes enough for Tendou to know how much Semi still cared about him.

Then he’d seen Wakatoshi.

Him and Shirabu both. Fuck if that wasn’t the kicker, really - he’d never seen Shirabu look like that at anyone, ever. He certainly didn’t look that way at Semi.

He knew without a doubt now that he’d been right on the bus. Semi wasn’t happy with Shirabu - well. Semi wasn’t in love with him, at least. It made him wish he’d stayed, changed things, followed that path that they’d started walking down all those years ago as second years - 

But then he wouldn’t have Wakatoshi. He wouldn’t give him up for the world.

Not even to Shirabu, unless Wakatoshi desired it, of course.

Semi, well... 

Semi just made him greedy.

“How are you?” Tendou whispered, moving close enough to see the moonlight on Semi’s face.

“Fine,” Semi said. “Shirabu - the settlement money is starting to run low. We always knew it would, after college. He’s got an account set away for savings, but he always budgeted it knowing he’d have to find a job. He was hoping for the orchestra.”

“No luck?”

Semi shook his head. “Really, he’s better playing solos or in an ensemble than in a big group like that. Should be in a quartet. He and Kawanishi play sometimes with a couple friends; I think they’ll continue doing that, but I don't think it’ll earn a living.”

“What’s he thinking of doing?”

Shrugging, Semi said, “Business, maybe. Looking at an MBA program. He also had some asshole approach him about becoming a donor. Can you believe that? After what happened to his mom?”

Frowning, Tendou took the chance and rubbed Semi’s shoulders in light circles. “The place in Hong Kong was an anomaly, you know that. There are some very reputable services out there. Some of them provide their workers with good connections, too - for many, it’s a jumping-off point to much more important positions.”

“But Shirabu? Selling himself? He’s never even let you drink from him!”

Nor anyone else but Semi, judging from the way his friend was reacting. Tendou wondered if Shirabu had been interested in the offer at all.

Maybe it was a conversation for another time.

Laughter drifted out of the kitchen, low and rich enough to make warmth flood Tendou’s heart. Wakatoshi. Then Reon, Shirabu, and Kawanishi.

Semi’s back tensed under his fingers.

There were so many questions Tendou wanted to ask. So many -

“So you and Wakatoshi, you’re close?”

He saw Semi grimace right after he said that, pain on his features that Semi still couldn’t hide from him.

“We’re close, yes,” Tendou said, sliding his arm around Semi’s shoulder and tugging him a bit closer. “I met him right after I arrived up there, you know. His family works the fields, has for generations. Well, his mother’s family. He’s magic with plants. Hands are so gentle -”

“Are they now?”

Semi’s tone was balanced somewhere between acidic and wistful. 

Tendou just chuckled, remembering that Semi had a boyfriend now. Remembering that Shirabu was his friend. It didn’t matter that Semi was warm, that he was leaning back against Tendou’s body, that it was as natural to touch him as it had always been.

“They are, yes,” Tendou said, resisting the urge to kiss the shoulder just inches from his mouth. “He’ll uncurl baby vines that get stuck on the wrong trellis, guide ladybugs out of water puddles, I think I even saw him fix a bird’s wing once.”

“He sounds so good.”

“He’s one of the best humans I know,” Tendou said, unable to keep the pride from his voice.

“Are you two, ah. Together?” 

Tendou paused, trying to figure out how exactly to explain his relationship to Wakatoshi. “In a - it’s uh. Complicated?”

It was actually simple, but some things weren’t really his to share. 

Semi turned towards him, looking up. “Complicated?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

That face, those lips, that neck. Tendou dropped his hands to his side, swallowing. He wanted to know what Semi was searching for in his eyes. Wanted to hope, dream, that Semi had eyes for more than just Wakatoshi.

That was so crazy to even think about, being jealous of the man who was gravity itself to him, especially knowing Wakatoshi valued him above all else.

Wakatoshi would understand, though.

He’d never judge him.

It made the ache in his heart ease as he smiled down at the most beautiful man in the world. “Complicated,” he said, nodding. “It’s not traditional, I guess you’d say. But you’re -”

“I’m what?”

Beautiful. With Shirabu. So incredibly, unavoidably, painfully attractive.

Untouchable.

“The humans in the kitchen are probably hungry,” Tendou said, trying to distract Semi from trying to find out what he wanted to say.

It worked, and it didn’t. Semi’s face scrunched up, and his fingers curled into Tendou’s shirt. “I don’t want to see them,” he whispered. It was the voice Semi used when he was whispering secrets into a well, things too precious to let anyone overhear, even Shirabu.

Tendou wasn’t Shirabu, though. Tendou had never been Shirabu. If he was anyone to Semi, he wanted to be someone safe.

“Why?” he whispered back, resisting the urge to gather Semi into his arms and try to take away all his pain.

“Because he’s - they’re -” Semi started, breathing heavily and ducking his head. “Everything’s going to fall apart.”

Tendou wanted to tell him it wouldn’t. Wanted to tell him everything would be ok, that he’d always be there for him.

It wasn’t that easy, though.

This was like sewing pants, and discovering halfway through that you’d sewn a leg together. The stitches had to be ripped out, and it was likely the fabric would be damaged in the process. It didn’t help that Tendou loved both of them. Didn’t help that he felt guilty for not being here to save them from themselves.

But he wasn’t anyone’s savior.

“Hey, Semisemi,” he whispered, leaning his head forward.

“What?” Semi asked, voice defensive now, eyes narrowed as they looked up at him.

He was beautiful when he was mad.

Tendou wanted to kiss him so badly.

Instead, he just looked at him, watching false anger melt away into heartache and then to calm.

Swallowing, Semi said, “I’m glad you’re back, Satori.”

“Satori?” Tendou said with a little breath of excitement.

Nose crinkling up, Semi said, “Ah. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine! Does that mean I get to call you Eita?”

He could’ve sworn there was a faint flush on Semi’s cheeks.

“No!”

Laughing, Tendou stepped back as Semi pushed past him and stalked toward the kitchen, following close behind.

Reon appeared to be regaling Kawanishi and Shirabu with stories about their home district. Tendou was more than pleased by the fact that Kawanishi seemed taken with the fighter. They were both from the country, so it made sense. Kawanishi’s family was from the town where Tendou had spent his childhood. They raised dairy cows instead of flowers, but some things were as familiar one place as the other.

Semi had walked over to Shirabu, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking down into the other man’s eyes. Their expressions were tight, controlled, guarded - but Tendou knew how much they cared about each other. Even if things were up in the air.

Wakatoshi looked at him, raising an eyebrow. 

Tendou responded with a shrug. They’d talk about the complications later if Wakatoshi wanted. It was possible that the newfound attractions were not all one-sided, but he wanted to let the other man decide without prejudicing him too much. If Wakatoshi was attracted to Shirabu, that would be fine. If he was attracted to Semi -

Tendou was fairly certain he could more than live with that prospect.

The idea of something coming between two of his oldest friends made him back away from those flippant thoughts, however. No matter what happened this would be complicated.

Definitely not something to deal with on an empty stomach. 

“Anyone here hungry?” Tendou asked.

Kawanishi and Reon’s hands were the first ones up, making Tendou laugh. At least one thing here would be simple. 

But no matter what storm approached, he also trusted they’d weather it.

They’d been through worse, after all.

~~~~~~~~

The sheet that stretched between them felt like it was miles wide. Semi walked his fingers over the fabric, feeling each bump and fold until he brushed against the Shirabu’s hand.

Shirabu was watching him, frowning. He turned his hand, capturing Semi’s fingers and squeezing.

Semi wasn't sure what to say.

Shirabu was more than his oldest friend. Shirabu was his lifeline - had literally been his source of life as long as he could remember. Had never withheld blood when Semi asked. Had always been the most important person in Semi’s life.

That would never change, would it?

He was most important, yes, but now Semi wondered if they’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, picked this form of a relationship because it seemed natural, because they loved each other and their bodies worked well together and neither of them was interested in anyone else.

Were they in love, though?

Had they ever been in love?

He opened his mouth, thinking about asking the question. Asking would mean having to reveal his own answer, though, and that might lead to the truth he’d realized but didn’t want to speak aloud yet. Speaking would make it real. Speaking would change everything. What if Shirabu threw the question back at him?

_Are you in love with me? Have you ever been in love with me?_

Would his answer hurt Shirabu?

Almost worse - did he even want the Shirabu’s answer to the questions to be yes?

Oh, if he admitted that even to himself - how he’d feel like even more of an asshole, selfishly greedy for the newest and brightest thing or wanting to chase after the one who’d gotten away. 

The truth was that he probably wanted both of those things. Seeing Tendou had made him feel alive like he hadn’t felt in years. It was almost better than the first rush after a mouthful of blood. That shock of wild hair, the hands that moved over his body like they wanted to map it out; it reminded Semi of high school. Parties where he and Tendou had absconded to dark rooms, learned how to kiss with fangs, rubbed and squeezed over clothes and made fumbling attempts to teach each other pleasure. Tendou would be better at it now. Hell, Semi was better at it now.

Better because of Shirabu.

And then, Wakatoshi. Ushijima. Tendou’s name for the man felt too intimate to use. Not yet, not yet. Eventually, he wanted to map out the name, know what lay behind those olive eyes, have them directed at him, those hands -

So cruel of Tendou to tease about those hands.

Then again, Tendou had always been a touch cruel. Never mean, though. At least, not to him. Tendou was kind and generous, protective, patient, understanding - oh, so many things. Semi felt like he’d become one of those flowers he’d read about, the Bethlehem Rose that dried up and withered away but could be brought back to life by just a few drops of water. 

Six years. Six years without water, and one touch to make him feel.

Shirabu’s fingers tightened on his own, filling him with sour guilt. Those copper eyes - they knew him. Had watched him all his life. The last thing he wanted was for this rush of emotion to break anything between them - maybe he could have all of them? Would that work? Could that -

“I need -” Shirabu said, frowning and looking down. “I want, I -”

“Yes?” Semi asked, feeling for a moment like he wanted to give him anything. Everything. 

“You like both of them.”

The words sent a chill through Semi’s heart, had him scrambling inside. No, this could be good. Maybe this could work - “I -”

“I know, it’s ok,” Shirabu said, exhaling softly. “I saw how you looked at them, at both of them. To be honest - well, you’ve always been drawn to Tendou, even when we were kids. We both know that. And I saw, how you looked at Ushijima too, but - but could I ask, I - could I -”

“Shirabu,” Semi started, hurting so bad for the pain in his best friend’s voice, boyfriend, lover, how could he have even thought -

“Could you leave him for me? Maybe? And just - have Tendou?”

Semi froze. 

“What do you mean,” Semi said, surprised at the lack of emotion in his own voice.

Shirabu noticed, of course. Shirabu always noticed. His eyes went wide, and words started spilling out of those lips - “Forget it, I didn’t mean - I just - It was stupid -”

He’d kissed those lips. Felt those lips on his skin. Felt those lips everywhere.

They were still holding hands.

Ripping his hand away Semi backed up against the wall, curling his arms around himself like a shield. “They’re not things, Shirabu,” he hissed. “They aren’t musical pieces we can debate over or pieces of clothing we can share. They’re people!”

“I know that!” Shirabu yelled. “Do you think I’m stupid, of course, I know that! It’s just - Fuck, Semi, I -”

“What? Fucking what, Ken?”

“I actually want him!”

It felt like a punch to the gut, like the words had come and ripped the facade away from the relationship they’d been pretending to have. Pretending for months, maybe? Had Shirabu - this whole time -

“You mean because you don’t actually want me.”

Shirabu’s mouth fell open, eyes widening. “No, Eita - I -” he started, horror shifting to something defensive, something aching, something quiet. “Eita, are you telling me you want me the same way you want Tendou? That the way he makes you feel -”

“I love you!”

Shirabu’s jaw clenched. Now, his eyes just looked sad. “Do you, Eita?” he murmured, too much understanding in his eyes. “Do you really?”

He did. He loved Shirabu with all of his being, hell, Shirabu was the very blood that pumped through his veins, but - Fuck. “You’re such a fucking bastard sometimes, Kenjirou.”

He didn’t hear his lover’s response. He couldn’t stay there. For once he was more than thankful for his strength and speed because it allowed him to rush out of their bedroom, out of their apartment, running, running, running -

The world was breaking.

He fell to his knees, hands curling into the grass beside a canal. Some part of him knew he couldn’t stay here. His internal clock told him that the sun would be up soon, that he had to find shelter - but a part of him didn’t care.

How could Shirabu even ask that?

Fucking bastard - 

Nevermind that Semi knew what he meant, but -

Sunrise. Soon.

He couldn’t go to Akaashi. Akaashi never let anyone come over to his house.

He wouldn’t go to Oikawa. Oikawa’s family scared him.

He could go to Kenma.

He didn’t want to go to Kenma. 

There was only one place in the city he wanted to go, so there he went.

It was Ushijima who answered the door, still dressed in normal clothes. Semi felt terribly conscious of the fact that he was a mess, red tears probably staining his cheeks, grass stains on the legs of his pajamas - but it didn’t matter. 

“Tendou,” Ushijima called, looking over his shoulder. “You have a visitor.”

“I - what? Semi?”

Then he didn’t have to think, because Tendou was there, holding him like he was as fragile as a baby bird. Selfish, he was so selfish, he wanted this, he needed this, he wanted more -

He wanted to sleep.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Semi whispered.

Tendou hugged him close and kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to say a thing.”

And he didn’t. He was home, here, in these arms.

Home in an unfamiliar bed, with Tendou curled up behind him, humming him to sleep with poorly-remembered Bach.

Home.


End file.
